


Convalescence

by Arvanion



Series: A War To End All [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - World War I, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Nurses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-07 13:54:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16409717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arvanion/pseuds/Arvanion
Summary: As the Ylissean-Plegian war drags on, a converted manor on the home front hosts wounded soldiers seeking to recover.(Commissioned by bullfrogonthehorizon.)





	Convalescence

**Author's Note:**

> A commission for [bullfrogonthehorizon](https://bullfrogonthehorizon.tumblr.com/), and a companion piece of sorts to my (much earlier) work _Pro Patria Mori_.

The Mount Prism Manor had been a retreat of the royal family for generations, but it was now serving a very different purpose. With the Ylissean and Plegian armies solidly entrenched and well into their second year of fighting, casualties were mounting, and the field hospitals at the warfront could not provide everything necessary for their treatment.

So when the wounded were sent home, many officers ended up here. The staff assigned to the manor did all they could to aid the soldiers’ convalescence.

The heels of Lissa’s shoes clacked on the tile floor as she made her way down the hallway, careful to keep the rickety service trolley in front of her moving smoothly. In her earlier days as a nurse, she hadn’t been as cautious--something that had resulted in more than a few broken dishes.

_ Of course, I was a lot more energetic back then,  _ she thought.  _ Two years can really change the way you think about things. _

That wouldn’t do, though. Nutrition was important, and even if the steaming bowls of porridge arrayed in front of her didn’t look particularly appetizing, her patients would be grateful for them nonetheless.

She stopped in front of a particular door and opened it, backing her way through with the cart in tow, and called out. “Good morning, everybody!”

The room had once been a spot for formal dinners, but was now an unofficial mess hall. Uniformed men and women--those of the manor’s patients who were well enough to leave their beds under their own power--were scattered around several small tables, conversing in low voices.

A man at the nearest table to the door looked up from a book, smiling. “Ah, Miss Lissa. A pleasure to see you, as always.”

“And you, Captain Virion. Ready for breakfast?”

“I certainly am.”

Lissa returned his smile. Virion had been here longer than most--a chemical attack early in the war had left him with serious burns, and his healing process had been arduous. Despite that, he treated all of the staff with the same sort of effortless gallantry, delivering flowery pleasantries in a faint Rosanne accent.

_ Though he reserves the best of it for Father Libra,  _ she thought with private amusement. The handsome priest had caught quite a few officers’ eyes over the course of his ministry.

“So, what delectable dish have you prepared for us this morning?” asked Virion with his usual over-the-top air of fascination.

“Why, your favorite, of course! Plain porridge.” Lissa settled the bowl in front of the captain.

“Veritable ambrosia,” Virion declared. “My thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Lissa made her way through the dining room, exchanging a few friendly remarks as she distributed breakfast. The cart was almost empty when another young woman in a starched white dress entered from the other side of the room.

“Lissa, darling, there you are.”

“Good morning, Maribelle. Is something the matter?”

The other nurse shook her head, golden ringlets bouncing beneath her cap. “Nothing urgent. I just wanted to let you know that we’ve had two new additions since yesterday. They came in early this morning.”

“Oh. Thanks for letting me know.” Lissa giggled. “That’ll save me from being taken by surprise and embarrassing myself…”

“Nonsense. You are the epitome of grace.”

“Awww, thanks.” Lissa set down another bowl of porridge. “Anything else?”

“Not in particular. I simply wished to talk to you in person.” Maribelle inclined her head with characteristic poise. “Until later, Lissa.”

“Yeah, later!”

Virion raised his eyebrows suggestively at Lissa as she pushed the now-empty cart back toward the door. “You two seem to get along  _ quite  _ well.”

“Oh hush, you.” Lissa’s rejoinder was almost absent-minded: she was already thinking ahead to her next set of duties.  _ If there are new arrivals I should help get them situated… _

Newcomers to the manor were initially given their own rooms, until they had adjusted enough to be assigned a bed in one of the larger infirmaries. The idea was to ensure they weren’t overwhelmed, though Lissa had her doubts as to whether the policy did any good. Some soldiers, haunted by the horrors they’d seen and isolated from their peers, had tried to take their own lives. A few had succeeded.

She reached the first of the rooms and knocked on the door. When there was no answer, she knocked again, harder this time.

_ I suppose the soldier inside must be asleep,  _ Lissa thought. She opened the door quietly and slipped inside. Though the room was dim, she could make out a dark-haired man slumped back on the pillows.

“Excuse me,” she called quietly. “I brought you breakfast.”

At the sound of her voice, the man’s body stiffened. His eyes snapped open, wide but unseeing. “Ke’ri?!” His voice was barely a croak. Lissa could make out the telltale signs of chemical burns under the bandages at his throat.

“I… I’m not--”

“Ke’ri! Ke’ri!” He repeated the name again and again, voice cracking as it rose to a raw shout. Lissa jumped in surprise, the bowl dropping to the floor and shattering.

“Please, sir, you need to--”

“KE’RI!”

The man was struggling to raise himself out of bed when the door banged open and Father Libra ran in, clerical robes flapping behind him. The priest addressed Lissa in an uncharacteristically harsh tone. “Nurse, the barbiturates!”

“R-right!” Lissa scrambled at the bedside table for the bottle of pills, dropping one into her palm and handing it off to Libra. He held it out to the man in bed, proffering a canteen of water to help wash it down.

Once he’d taken the medication, the man seemed to calm down. His shouting fit subsided, and he slumped back down into bed. Libra gestured for Lissa to leave the room while he stayed at the man’s side, soothing him in a gentle voice as his breathing slowed.

After a few minutes of waiting outside, Libra finally emerged. He’d gathered up the remnants of the shattered bowl in a blanket, which he set down on Lissa’s tray without a word.

_ I really messed up this time,  _ Lissa thought, taking in the exhausted look on Libra’s face. “Father Libra, I… I’m sorry.”

Libra rubbed at his temple and sighed. “No, I should apologize. This was no fault of yours--you had no way of knowing.”

“Knowing what?”

“The man in there, Lon’qu, was an officer in the Chon’sin Expeditionary Force,” said Libra. “The name he kept repeating, Ke’ri… she was one of his comrades.”

“What happened?”

“There was a gas attack, and her mask was broken.” Libra looked grim. “By the time they realized what was wrong, it was too late. He took those burns trying to give her his own mask, but…”

“Dear god.” It was the only thing Lissa could think to say.

“He’s shell-shocked,” said Libra. “He keeps reliving that moment--even hearing a woman’s voice is enough to send him back.”

Lissa thought of her brother: deployed somewhere along the front, many of his friends fighting alongside him. She imagined he would feel much the same way, had he been in Lon’qu’s place.

“That’s horrible,” she whispered.

“Yes.” Libra fell silent. “We will do what we can for him, but I think it would be for the best if we left his care to the male nurses for the time being.”

Lissa nodded. “Of course, Father Libra.”

Her next visit was somewhat less eventful. The soldier in the second room, a pale red-haired woman with a badly broken leg, was named Cordelia. Apart from introducing herself as a member of Ylisse’s 7th Airborne Division, she barely spoke a word.

_ I remember reading about the 7th a couple of weeks ago. The papers said that they were almost entirely wiped out in their last engagement…  _ Lissa had no idea what kind of comfort she could provide in such a situation. Instead, she sat quietly by Cordelia’s bedside until she had finished eating, then quietly excused herself.

By the time she was finished working for the day, Lissa was exhausted. She returned to the rooms assigned to the nurses, slumping into one of the chairs in the sitting room as soon as she could.

_ I just need to take a moment to catch my breath. _

“Lissa.  _ Lissa _ .”

“Bwuh?” It seemed only a moment later that a voice broke through to Lissa’s fatigue-addled mind. She looked up to see Maribelle standing in front of her. “O-oh, Maribelle. It’s you.”

“Of course it’s me, darling,” said Maribelle.

Lissa blinked a few times, rubbing at the back of her suddenly stiff neck. The light coming through the windows had dimmed. “I must have dozed off,” she mumbled.

Maribelle gave her a concerned look. “Are you all right?” Before Lissa could answer, the other nurse shook her head. “Never mind that. Come along, and I’ll make some tea for the two of us.”

A few minutes later, the two of them were seated at a table in what had formerly been the servants’ quarters. Lissa sipped at the tea, taking care not to scald herself.

“It’s very good,” she said quietly.

“Of course it is. I made it.” Maribelle reached across the table to rest one of her hands atop Lissa’s. “Now, will you tell me what’s bothering you?”

“It’s just…” Lissa let out a long breath. “All of this. The war, the wounded… it’s too much. I feel like I’m being crushed under the weight of it.”

“...Ah.”

Lissa stared down at her cup, watching the tendrils of steam twist in the air as they rose from the tea’s surface. “And I know it’s selfish of me to think that way. I’m about as far away from the war as it’s possible to be--it’s not as if I’m fighting in the trenches myself, or even working at one of the field hospitals. I don’t think I’d be able to handle it, if I was.”

“I doubt I could, either,” said Maribelle. “But, Lissa, that does not make either one of us selfish. Not everyone has the capacity to serve in the same way.”

“Maybe, but…”

“But?”

“I guess I don’t feel like I’m a very good nurse.”

“What makes you say that?”

Lissa took another gulp of her tea before answering. “It’s been two years, Maribelle. And after all that time, I still feel overwhelmed. There’s so little I can do. You’d think by now, I’d’ve gotten used to it…” She felt tears stinging at her eyes, and made no attempt to stop them.

Maribelle’s fingers tightened around Lissa’s, surprising her. “Listen to me,” said Maribelle, her voice firm. “Lissa. There is nothing wrong with you.”

“But--”

“I know this is hard.  _ God, _ all of this is harder than anyone should have to bear. But we must never allow ourselves to grow numb to others’ pain.” Lissa sniffled. Maribelle pulled a kerchief from her pocket, handing it over. “It is only natural to feel overwhelmed in situations such as this. What is most important is that we do not let that feeling stop us.”

Lissa wiped at her eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. “You’re right. I’m sorry--”

“Don’t apologize, Lissa. There is nothing wrong with feeling as you do.” Maribelle met her eyes directly. “What is most important is not to be completely overcome. We need to continue moving forward--to the best of our ability, no matter how slowly. And when you feel like you can’t go on… I’ll be there to help you up again.”

She took Lissa’s hand in both of hers. “Don’t lose hope, darling.”

Lissa gathered her strength and smiled. “I won’t.”

No matter how dark the night, a single lamp could provide illumination. And to Lissa, the smile that Maribelle returned her was as radiant as the sun.


End file.
